


What comes first (silence)

by glitterballsack



Series: Silence and Noise [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, College, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Party, klance, klangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterballsack/pseuds/glitterballsack
Summary: Keith is new to the whole dating thing. After the excitement of having a boyfriend wears out, Keith and Lance have to figure out how to make the relationship work. However, it's hard to do in silence.Confused and scared of messing up, Keith makes some questionable decisions. Now's the time to take responsibilty.a.k.a.learning how to be with each other and the importance of conversation
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Silence and Noise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546912
Kudos: 35





	What comes first (silence)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: curse words (honestly like twice, but ya know); drinking (not underaged, tho)

Colourful streaks of light chased one another around the room. From the ceiling, through the walls, disappearing under the table to emerge from behind the sofa, sparkling up the plastic cups and glass bowls with snacks. Keith slanted down on the couch, propping his head on its back and lifting his gaze to look up at the disco-lightbulb, which temporarily replaced the usual one. Not the cheapest option, not the highest shelf either. It rolled around steadily and if you looked long enough, the music started to slow down to match its pace, not the other way around.

The lights flickered, the beat echoed through Keith’s guts as he sank deeper into the pillows. With the right eye closed and head slightly tilted the lights sometimes seemed to rotate in the other direction. What colour came first, anyways? Red? What was after that… It went: red, green, blue, pink… or is it more like purple? _Magenta, _Lance would say, his “g” tinted with a hint of Spanish pronunciation. A little smile crawled onto Keith’s lips as he imagined Lance enunciating the word. He adored the way Lance spoke…

“Hey, Keith! Your boyfriend’s a winner!”

…oh, his _boyfriend_…

“Hey baby, do you reckon I deserve a reward kiss?”

A beautifully declared question pulled Keith out of the trans. He pulled his head back up and gazed at the two boys in front of him. Lance stood relaxed, his hair dishevelled by all the playful ruffles he must have received after winning beer pong. A few of the upper buttons of his shirt were undone. A few more than before. Mason, responsible for the first yell, stood by his side, patting his back with a wide smile.

“C’mere and find out” Keith responded softly, laughing when Lance threw himself on the couch and pulled Keith onto his lap. He slowly leaned in, stopping right before their lips touched. “Hey, see those lights? What would you call that purple-ish colour?” He whispered.

Lance smiled and looked up.

“Hmm… I’d call it magenta” – his tongue forming the loveliest _g, _right before his lips met Keith’s.

Keith weaved his fingers into Lance’s hair, soft and slightly damp at the base of the neck, pulling him closer and inviting that tongue to slip into his mouth.

They heard more people running in, their laughter and cheers stifled by the bubble of warmth and fuzziness, which encircled them as long as they were skin-to-skin, eyes closed, tongues entwined. Until Lance pulled away, softly kissed the corner of Keith’s mouth and smiled.

“_Now _I really won” he whispered, leaning back on the couch.

The other players came to high-five Lance, the viewers to congratulate him, Mason to ask if Keith wanted a drink. Lance asked for a beer, Mason said he did not ask Lance, Keith wanted something stronger, Mason went away, came back handing Lance and Keith their drinks. They talked, more people came, some went out, Keith downed his drink, someone gave him a refill, Keith smiled at him, he smiled back, some people came back, they all talked some more, some danced, Lance got another beer, Mason got something stronger this time, same as Keith, they both downed it, got a refill, smiled, got a smile back, Lance had to use the bathroom, Mason and Keith went to dance, the refill guy introduced himself, they all danced, Lance joined, Keith had to go to the bathroom.

At the moment, Keith’s mind was pleasantly pulpy, images appearing there at random – Mason laughing, Lance dancing, high-fives, shots, refill guy smiling, Lance surrounded by people, always in the centre of attention, Lance looking at him warmly, Mason joking with Keith and the guy, _what was his name_, Lance’s lips, fleeting kiss on his forehead, _it started with L, _his palm on Keith’s back, _rhymed with photo?, _Mason bringing more drinks, _motor?, _somebody yelling about another round of beer-pong, _oh, Lotor… his name was Lotor, the refill guy, nice smile, _Lance smiling and turning away to-

Keith gulped, catching his reflection in the mirror after turning around to wash his hands. He zipped his pants back up and rolled up his sleeves, taking a deep breath in. He needed fresh air.

Tumbling out of the door he disturbed two people making out, said sorry, kept walking. Found a wooden swing in the garden, one that looked like a long bench on chains. He sat on it, let his head fall back to look at the stars. The sky was spinning, slowly.

His breath vaporized in cold midnight air and he wished Lance was there to lend him a jacket. Last time he saw Lance, he didn’t have a jacket. Only that shirt, half buttons undone. Maybe all of them by now. Who touched Lance’s buttons, by the way? He was always surrounded by so many people… He never ignored Keith, no, but… So many people always wanting something from Lance, _his _Lance. Why did he let them? Well, he’s nice, he wouldn’t just push them away. Funny, Lance yelling at somebody because they came up to him… But Lance was _his _and he was Lance’s, everyone knew that. Oh, everyone knew that… Keith – Lance’s boyfriend. _Hey Lance, take your boyfriend with you, we wanna meet him. And what do I want, Lance, ever thought about that? Well, yeah, I guess you did ask me, so many times, but I can’t… I don’t want to upset you, what do I do? Why don’t you just k n o w, Lance, just guess, or tell me, what do I do… it’s his fault, his fault, his, his, h i s! Lance’s fault! or maybe… it’s all his, Keith’s-_

“Hey, Keith. What are you doing out here? Aren’t you cold?” a familiar voice interrupted his train of thought. Keith moved his gaze back down and saw the refill g- Lotor.

“Oh, a little bit. But it’s okay. Needed some fresh air.”

“Oh, yeah? Feeling better now?”

“A bit.. I guess” Keith mumbled.

“So are you coming back in?”

“No, I’m cool. Not yet.”

“Okay. Can I sit, then?”

“Go ahead.”

Lotor sat next to him. They swung gently.

“So, how do you know Mason?” Lotor asked, sprawling on the swing.

“It’s my b- uh… Lance’s friend.” Keith answered “Why?”

“Well, because it’s his party.” Lotor laughed melodically. “I’m just curious, seeing you here for the first time. So… he’s your _boyfriend’s _friend.”

Keith sighed.

“He is. And you are…”

“Mason’s ex.” Lotor said cheerfully. “And his best friend, too, I guess.”

Keith glanced at him suspiciously. He looked like a model, from the long, white hair to the perfectly white teeth, both very straight and very shiny, visible almost all the time, as the boy never quit smiling. His voice was slick and harmonious, his eyes piercing from underneath heavy lids. As Keith’s head started to clear out, he suddenly remembered. Lotor, Mason’s ex. They’ve met, numerous times. Well, not exactly met, more like passed each other in the door.

“Oh, right.”

“So, why are you sitting here, moping, Keith?” Lotor asked.

“I’m not.” Keith answered, automatically. Lotor kept silent, his piercing gaze locked on Keith.

Then, Keith took a deep breath and answered, this time honestly.

In the chilly night, on the wooden swing, sobered-up enough to know what he really thinks and still drunk enough to say it out loud, Keith talked and Lotor listened. He told Lotor how he really liked Lance, how he didn’t know anything about relationships and how he felt it was going too fast but thought maybe there’s something wrong with him, not Lance. How he hated that all of a sudden, in people’s eyes, he wasn’t his own person, but an inseparable part of Lance. How he wanted to have their relationship for themselves only, just for now, or maybe for longer than now. Not forever, right, just… until he figures it out. He admitted to Lotor that despite all of that, he is still so jealous, so very jealous, of every person able to touch and be touched by Lance, because it always seems so unconstrained, so natural for them.

He told Lotor mostly everything, talked about every doubt and every problem he had with Lance. After he finished, there was a moment of silence. Then Lotor smiled comfortingly and asked:

“Well, boy, I don’t mind you telling me all that, but don’t you think your boyfriend also deserves to hear it?”

Keith flinched.

“What?”

“Why did you never tell Lance how you’re feeling, Keith?” Lotor repeated.

Keith thought about it. For him, the reason was obvious.

“Well… I can’t just… tell him. It’s… We’re a couple, that’s what couples do, normal couple stuff. I can’t just tell him: hey, Lance, let’s not be a couple. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. And, I do want to be a couple, okay, I just… It’s my problem, not his.”

Lotor laughed. Keith looked up at him, irritated.

“And what is so funny?”

“Oh, poor little thing. So confused.” Lotor laughed once again, warmly, then pulled himself together and placed a palm on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith, baby, you are so lost I don’t know where to start. I can’t fix it for you, but I can give you some advice. Here’s what we do: you listen closely to what I say, you store it in your memory, then we go get some more drinks so you can reflect on it in the morning and have fun right now. What do you say?”

“Yeah, fine by me.”

“Okay. Here’s the thing, sweetheart – there is no right way to go about a relationship. It’s not a one-size-fits-all situation. If you feel uncomfortable with something, you don’t do it. But Then, relationship is two people - well, at least. So, to do or not do something, those two people have to be on the same page. They have to _talk, _Keith. Conversation is key, always. What I advise you do is answer this: why do you not talk to Lance about your feelings?. But really, really think about it. If you can come up with a fully reasonable answer, one that you are entirely sure of, then none of what I’m saying is right. If you can’t… Well.” He finished the lecture with a wide smile.

Keith gulped, his thoughts in chaos.

“Well then. Get up. You promised me a drink.”

But the chaos can wait. It already has, for a long time.

Keith got up and followed Lotor back into the house, through the impromptu bar onto the impromptu dancefloor. In the thick air, under the neon party lights, they got drunk again, until the world around them flashed in their brains as series of images, short and bright, correspondingly to the flashing lights above and around their heads. There was Lance’s hand on Keith’s back, a kiss on his temple, a voice in his ear asking where has he been, left with no answer as Lotor pulled Lance into their circle, shoving a cup in his hand. A shrug, cup tilting, disappearing, the three of them dancing, soon becoming four as Mason joined. A call for another drinking game luring Lance and Mason back to the other room, leaving the two of them alone again. Closer to each other. Closer, closer, continuously closer, Lotor’s breath on his neck, his voice in Keith’s ear, something about a drink. Then – sweet nothingness, warmth, a weird kind, electrifying, slick, something dangerous about it, as Keith found himself on the kitchen counter, pinned against a wall by Lotor’s body, tasting alcohol off Lotor’s tongue, hearing his approving hums as his pale fingers pulled on the long, white strands of hair. 

Had it not been for Keith’s mind’s overall incapability at that moment, the muted outburst of cheers from behind the door would have alarmed them. But, given the conditions, Keith ignored it entirely, up until the door swung open and a laughter froze, sound so familiar to the last working part of Keith’s consciousness that he snapped out of the haze and pushed Lotor away.

“Oh” Lotor exclaimed cheerfully and laughed. “So sorry, baby. I’ll leave you to it” He mumbled merrily, patting Lance’s shoulder as he slipped past him in the door.

Lance stood very still, puzzled expression on his face. His brows were furrowed, mouth slightly open, stare fixed at Keith, who, on the other hand, was a complete mess. He coughed, slipped off the counter, scratched his head, walked up to Lance, extended his hand but then quickly pulled it back, scared to touch him, as if he would burst out or – worse – break down.

“Lance, love, I don’t… Can… we talk? Please? Will you listen to me?”

Lance lifted one eyebrow.

“What the fuck, Keith?”

He didn’t sound as much angry as he did hurt – deeply, intensely hurt. Keith, seeing the genuine pain and confusion in his boyfriend's eyes, realised how wrong he was all this time. When he thought that Lance didn't understand him, didn't know him, didn't really care, he was so wrong. Then, Keith remembered Lotor’s words. And he started to understand. It started to unravel in his mind, slowly but surely, like an avalanche. How much Lance loved him, how much he cared, how much he wanted to work it out with Keith. There were moments, so many of them, when Lance wanted to make sure it was all okay, when Lance asked, when Lance wanted to talk – and they were all coming back to Keith. He started to understand that Lance never expected anything, that he was always open for conversation – but Keith was so scared of messing up, so confused, that he stopped perceiving Lance as _his Lance, _the Lance he could talk to about anything, the Lance that was warm and caring and understanding, the Lance he loved – and started to think of him as his-boyfriend-Lance – one whose inexistent expectations he had to fulfil, whose side he had to fit. Keith thought he was so frustrated with Lance all this time, but really he was frustrated with himself, his own communication issues, the walls he’d built around his heart. As the realisation came upon him, he felt the urge to let it all out. He felt ready.

“Lance, we have to talk. I didn’t know how to tell you-“

Lance snorted, cutting him off.

“Oh, I don’t either. But boy, this ain’t it.” He turned around and walked out the door.

Keith shook his head in disbelief. Just – what did Lance think he wanted to… _Oh. Oh no. _

He leapt forward, yelling “Lance, WAIT”, but he lost his boyfriend in the dark hallway, lit up occasionally by ricocheted neon lights and crowded with people talking, people making out, people drinking. He quickly decided it was best to check outside first – it would all get much harder if Lance just left the party. He pushed his way through the crowd and out the door, sighing with relief at the sight of Lance sitting on the stairs. The partial relief came with a sting to his heart as he saw Lance’s hunched back, his face hidden in his hands.

He gently closed the door and slowly approached his boyfriend, propping himself next to him.

“Lance… I am truly so, so sorry for kissing Lotor. You have every right to be mad at me, but, please… please, listen.” Keith halted, expectantly. He gulped when a pair of immensely sad eyes, blue like a sea after a violent storm, looked up at him. “Back there, saying I didn’t know how to tell you… That was a very unfortunate timing for me to say it, but I did _not _mean I wanted to break up. I didn’t. I don’t.”

Lance’s expression grew more and more confused. Still sad, but also puzzled, hesitant, hopeful?

“What… did you mean, then?” he articulated slowly.

“I meant… That I think I figured it out. I…” Keith laughed nervously. “Oh God, I know how it must sound… It’s just a very complicated situation. I mean, it’s complicated because I fucked it up. But, Lance, I need you to listen, okay? Just hear me out, the whole thing, and then… Then you can hate me, or… uh…”

“I don’t hate you, Keith. I couldn’t hate you.” Lance interrupted quietly.

Keith let out a shaky breath and smiled a little, brief smile.

“Of course you couldn’t…” he whispered. He wanted to touch Lance’s arm, his cheek, pull him closer, but seeing the hurt still present in his gaze, he cleared his throat, took a deep breath and continued, not doing any of those.

“I don’t… know much about relationships. After we got together, I suddenly stopped knowing what to do. I found talking to you so much harder than before. Before, I felt that I could tell you anything, because you were Lance, the one that always listens, always cares, always understands. But after… officially dating, I guess… I started feeling pressured to act a certain way – not like me, but like a boyfriend. Of course, let me make it clear – this is entirely my own fault, not yours. In my head, you became my boyfriend Lance. I told myself: you cannot mess this up, now that it’s a thing, don’t do anything stupid, don’t upset him, just do whatever is best for the relationship. I lost myself in this cycle of fear of messing up, making a mistake and losing you and I… stopped talking to you. It was never your fault, you always wanted to know how I felt about things and you always asked me, always made sure I was okay with everything… But yeah, I lied. A lot. I didn’t tell you, because in my head it was… impossible. In my head, you knew what relationship was supposed to be and I didn’t so I just had to… follow your lead. And as I stopped talking to you, all those things that I was not okay with piled up and eventually I started feeling so irritated, so mad at you for making me do them. Well, at least I thought I was mad at you. On top of that, I really… really liked you, and I grew so jealous… I envied everyone that touched you, talked to you, didn’t lie to you. I envied them so much because they all could do it, because none of them had that barrier of piled-up mess that I had between me and you. And, again, in my mind, at the same time as I blamed myself for it, I also started thinking: why does Lance do that, why is he so nice to everyone, why does he let people touch him like that, talk to him like that, why does he make it so easy for them, but not for me. Is he tired of me, does he want to get away from me, and, you know… all those why, why, why, what did I do wrong, just how wrong I am, is it my fault or his… “ Keith dared to look up for the first time since starting the monologue. Lance sat there, confused, hurt, but mostly worried. His hand froze, hovered between them where he extended it to touch Keith’s arm. When their gaze met, Lance changed its course and gently caressed his cheek, carefully, as if he was made of glass. After Lance pulled his hand back, Keith subconsciously lifted up his own to trace the ghost of Lance’s touch, still warm on his skin. Reassured, he continued. “And today, drunk and frustrated and unhappy, I said it out loud for the first time. Spoke about my feelings. With Lotor. I’m not really sure why him, I guess it was easier to tell somebody I don’t care about as much… somebody whose relationship with me cannot be messed up… because there is none… and, at the same time, somebody impartial, not close to you, because… because I was so scared of being judged… and of you knowing what I’ve done… So, yeah. Lotor said he couldn’t fix anything for me, but he could give me an advice.. And he said… He reminded me… That you are the person that I love, that I trust, that I don’t ever want to lie to… He told me that you deserved to hear what he’d just heard. And then he told me to forget about it for now, go have some fun, think about it in the morning. And, being even more confused than I was before, you know… But, let’s not.. Well, there is no excuse for that… I got more drunk, more confused, more frustrated, ended up with my tongue down Lotor’s throat. And, you know, here I just wanted to say how very sorry I am. I, truly, from the bottom of my heart, am so sorry, not only for the kiss, but… Mostly, for everything else. I regret it, all of it, so, so much… I regret hurting you, that… I never wanted that…”

Tears started streaming down his face and he fell apart. The overwhelming guilt was flooded by relief, wild, immense relief as he sat, open and vulnerable and honest in front of his love, however hurt and worried and confused – at least not lied to anymore. Finally, they both were free. Free to mess up, free to judge, free to forgive or free not to forgive, free to feel hurt, free to talk about it, free to know the truth, free in every way and sense.

And they were free to love.

Lance, therefore, by the means of newly obtained freedom, pulled Keith close and tight and kissed him deeply, then peppered his forehead, temples, hands, the tip of his nose with kisses, whispering apologies, love confessions and words of comfort.

"Thank you." he finally said. "And I'm really sorry, too. I love you, baby, no matter how much you mess up. I'm sorry I didn't make you feel it enough, I'm sorry I made you feel so confused. I trust you with my whole heart and I love you because of you, not because you're my boyfriend. I should have made that clear to you, a long time ago. But I'm going to do that now, hopefully..." He entwined their fingers. "Keith, it's okay. The kiss, it's nothing, really. I'm just glad... That it made you tell me the truth. I believe you, but most importantly, I _know _you. I know you and I love that Keith that I know, chaotic and confused, but loving and caring and warm. I don't want you to be perfect, I love you when you make mistakes just as much as I love you when you're right and I know you feel the same. I only want us to be able to talk everything through... to trust each other and listen to each other. And by listen, I don't only mean listen to what we're saying. Had I paid attention to what you are leaving out - had I listened to your silences, too, not only your words... Maybe you wouldn't feel so trapped. I'm sorry and I promise to listen, from now on, _really _listen to you."

Keith smiled a damp, but immensely happy smile.

"And I promise not to make it so hard for you to listen."

Keith could not believe, for a second, his luck. _How, _he thought, _could anyone forgive something like that_ – and then he reminded himself, it was not just anyone. It was Lance, _his _Lance. For them, love meant: forgiveness. Acceptance. Understanding. For them, love meant that everything was going to work out in the end, because they had each other. And there was nothing they couldn’t talk through.

**Author's Note:**

> Some explanations:  
The narration is sometimes weird because I tried (very hard) to make it meaningful and I want to explain myself because I'm quite proud of it.  
First of all, it is supposed to be kinda-Keith's-POV, but not quite, that's why there's some free indirect speech.  
Besides, the "stream of consciousness/inner monologue" - ish parts happen obviously because Keith is drunk and I wanted to kind of imitate that state of mind. Additionally, drunk+at the party= flashing colours, sounds, etc, it's a whole experience. I wanted to convey that in the narration.  
Further, the images flashing in Keith's mind are not random - they themselves and the order in which they appear reflect Keith's fears, doubts and confusion. Or are supposed to, at least.  
Alright, now, thank you SO MUCH for reading!!! Part two is coming up because I reckon there's not neartly enough fluff in this one. Sorry, but I just really wanted to stress how important communication is.  
I literally wrote a few thousand words just to remind you: p l e a s e talk. Communication is key.  
Have a nice day!


End file.
